Cookies
by LSR-7
Summary: Written for meekkka246 for Summer Secret Santa. Separate unresolved issues of Lisbon and Jane come to the forefront. Rated T for later chapters mentioned violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Cookies**

**Disclaimer:** The Mentalist show and characters are the property of Bruno Heller, Primrose Hill Productions, Warner Bros. Television and I'm sure others (CBS, etc.). I am not profiting from this story.

**Author's Notes:** This story was written for meekkk246 on Jello Forever ProBoards as part of a Summer Secret Santa gift exchange. There were 5 prompts I could have chosen from and I meant this to be a one-shot on the onset, but it turned multi-chaptered and used almost all the prompts and tried to fulfill the request to the best of my ability. I can't give this story a stamp of quality as it has not been edited in my rush to try and get it done, nor is it as good (in my opinion) as some of my other stories. There may even be a detached feeling to it.

**Chapter 1**

Lisbon's shoulders subtly drooped as she found that they were gone. She tried not to let her disappointment show, which would be a bit embarrassing if anyone were to witness it.

The senior agent had strode into the break room under the guise of getting another cup of coffee, but really it was in hopes of snagging one of the treats Grace had brought in from a bakery. Cookies to be exact. To her dismay all she saw were golden crumbs in an otherwise empty plastic container that somebody had neglected to have the decency to throw out. It just sat there on the counter, a cookie carcass mocking her.

Lisbon looked up from the countertop, the heavy steps of her tall agent having caught her attention as he walked up to the shining refrigerator. He gave her a nod and reached in, pulling out milk. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted crumbs about his cleanly shaven mouth and a few that trailed down his shirt. Of course. Who else would have inhaled the cookies that were brought in not even half an hour ago? She really should have expected it. It was her fault for not foreseeing this situation and having snagged a cookie from Van Pelt before they were placed in this room, open prey for the lumbering bottomless pit.

The brunette's hair flicked out behind her as she breezed past the giant drinking milk. She couldn't stop the thought of hoping the glutton would choke on it a little, karmic payback, but brushed the thought aside. She shouldn't be so childish. They were just cookies and she could go buy them herself if she really wanted them. They just wouldn't taste as great as a free one. Who was she kidding, they'd still be delicious.

Walking into her office she was greeted by the sight of Jane on her office couch, clearly not pleased with its lumpy cushions as he shifted about on it.

"Morning Lisbon," he offered up to her with a smile the crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"Do you want something?" she asked testily as she walked around her desk and seated herself, setting her mug down, sifting through the papers on her desk. She could feel his eyes on her, analyzing. Nothing new about that. She glanced up, her green eyes meeting his almost blue ones. Hazel? Her eyes flicked back down to the white papers on her dark desktop protector. In that brief moment she saw that he appeared to have a thoughtful look.

She could almost hear her brain sputter and screech to a halt, completely losing her thoughts on the paperwork when a cookie was thrust in front of her. She looked up to Jane who seemed to have teleported to right in front of her desk, the golden brown treat in his hand.

Jane smiled down at her, amusement glimmering about his mouth and eyes, "I can't promise you any milk, but then again you enjoy these with your coffee anyway. Lisbon, please, your eyes are going to fall out if you stare any longer."

She blinked at him and grumbled out, "Thanks," still a bit surprised, not bothering to ask how or when, but instead commented wryly, "I'm amazed your arm wasn't mauled."

He smirked, pulling his hand back from the napkin wrapped cookie Lisbon had accepted. He sank into the chair in front of her desk and leaned back into it, watching her take a bite, noticing the tiny curl of her lips in childish enjoyment, the sigh of contentment.

The beginnings of a foul mood lifted, she went back to work, half of the large cookie still uneaten, sitting near her coffee on its napkin. The consultant, in his typical style of dress, was so quiet she almost forgot (impossible) he was there. That was not at all typical of him. She glanced up at him to find the man staring at her, not exactly a new thing. He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment of her attention, but nothing more as he simply stayed seated, relaxed in his chair, chin resting in the palm of one hand, his elbow digging into the armrest. She decided not to comment, waiting to see how long this silence would last. His silence when not "napping" was not typical, especially around her, but he had played this game with her before, just waiting for her to ask.

Lisbon's pen scratching against the paper, slight shift in her office chair, and an occasional small sigh were the only sounds in her office. There was a background thrum of office life outside, phones ringing, scrapes and squeaks of chairs being pushed out from under desks, filing cabinets slamming shut and the like that was wholly separate from this tiny piece of world.

In ignoring him finally she was pulled back into endless work and was surprised to remember that Jane was with her as he had been so silent. She looked up again expected to find him staring at her, but saw that he had his eyes closed, it almost appeared that he was sleeping, not that she let that fool her.

He was rather calculating when it came to appearances (even when it seemed he was carefree), though why he wanted to look like he was sleeping now was beyond her. Perhaps he was hoping to catch her doing something she wouldn't do if she thought he was awake? That struck her as rather too simple for him. Well, whatever the reason she decided to continue working. This was a rare opportunity for her as he was being quiet and within her eye sight, likely unable to cause trouble for her elsewhere if he was present. Right? Such thoughts were making her a bit suspicious and slightly paranoid. Better get done what she could before the building fell down around her ears or Hightower stormed in. There was no way everything could be going as smoothly as she thought they were.

Lisbon spent just a few more minutes bent over the papers, but the accumulating stiffness in her shoulders and neck urged her to take a short break as she pulled herself up in her seat, slightly rolling her head around. She looked at the still form of Jane who had not moved since she last checked. She noticed the lines on his face, she'd noticed them before and he had a couple of years on her, but they were always a little surprising each time she noticed, especially with how immature he appeared. Okay, perhaps not so much immature as arrogant and arbitrary, qualities she associated with youthfulness even when plenty of older adults demonstrated them, just not to the same degree Jane did.

Sudden eye contact startled her as the subject of her musings awoke, or opened his eyes in any case. The agent was momentarily frozen, feeling slightly guilty, as if she was caught with her hand in the… hmmm, that half a cookie was still sitting on her desk.

Jane blinked, clearing his eyes of the sticky feeling of sleep. He quirked a small smile towards the woman studiously ignoring him, staring at her papers again and he knew she must have been staring at him moments before. She may not believe it, but he actually had drifted off for a little while. His back certainly wasn't thanking him. He could have at least lain out on her couch (poorly cushioned though it was). He stretched up, rubbing his lower back.

"You have a perfectly good couch waiting for you."

Jane looked up, slightly surprised and yet not at all, that Lisbon had broken the silence. He was certain she was waiting for him to be the first to speak. He smiled suggestively; an eyebrow cocked just so, "Is that an invitation?"

Predictably she rolled her eyes and took a sip of her cooled coffee, a grimace tightening her lips in displeasure. She threw him a look, her head tilted towards her papers again, "Should I be preparing for any calls or visits?"

He looked up at her, acting baffled, as if he knew nothing of what she meant, "I don't know, why do you ask?"

She gave a derisive grunt, her mouth twisting momentarily.

"You shouldn't do that, it'll give you wrinkles even if your face won't freeze in that shape," the consultant teased, his teeth flashing.

"_You_ give me wrinkles," she retorted, shuffling through her apparently finished papers, double checking to see if she had missed anything before holding them up and tapping them against her desk, aligning their edges into a neat stack.

"Ah, so we are growing old together."

Her head snapped up, her mouth forming, "Wha-?"

"Boss," Cho interrupted, a quick knock before he pushed the door open enough for his head, "Hightower sent us a case."

"Understood," she replied, immediately in business mode, making her way around her desk to head out, but not before sending an exasperated look at Jane.

He just grinned.

"What were they doing?"

Cho kept his eyes on the road, driving, while Rigsby occupied the passenger seat of the car. The stoic agent replied, "Sitting."

The tall man bent his brow down unbelievingly at his fellow agent. They were alone in the car on their way to a crime scene, where they would meet up with Lisbon and Jane.

"Just sitting? Jane was in there a long time," Rigsby puzzled, he rarely thought about the boss and consultant's relationship outside of how Jane got into trouble with her. There had been moments though, that he wondered. Right now was one of those moments, a reprieve from his regrets with a certain red head.

"You think they're, you know?" Rigsby turned his head momentarily towards his partner, before rummaging through his pockets. He could have sworn he had saved a cookie wrapped safely in a napkin. Maybe he ate it, but he had saved it specifically for something to snack on later. He was dissatisfied with his fruitless search and settled back in his seat, all the more irritable for it.

"No," came Cho's succinct answer, dark eyes never straying from the road ahead.

Rigsby sighed, trying to get his thoughts off of… the cookie. Not the person who brought them this morning of course.

"But they might sometime," Cho suddenly added, sensing he had regained Rigsby's attention. Sometimes he tried to help keep the other's thoughts from drifting into the recent past. Only sometimes. He was a grown man after all and should be able to handle his own life, but letting Rigsby stew on his own when they were isolated in the car was asking for trouble. The kind of trouble which was more of an annoyance, asking Kimball his advice on if he thought Grace thought about the taller agent, if she had mentioned anything, if she seemed depressed, any number of questions the serious, black-haired agent would rather not talk and hear about continuously for the remainder of the trip.

"Oh? Why do you think so?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Cho flatly answered and heard Rigsby snort, causing the driver's lips to minutely curve up.

"You know what? I'll bet you that Jane will end up asking the boss out," Rigsby finally said, having turned his head towards Cho. This is what happened when they were bored. Of course, thinking about a bet would also help keep his mind off of other things, a person he had to see every day at the office.

"Hm. He asks her out all the time, that's not a bet."

"I mean on a real date, and I'll bet dinner on that," Rigsby said with finality, "You in?"

Cho's brows wanted to raise slightly, but not one to turn down a challenge he instead said, "I'm betting Lisbon will ask him out and I'll let you choose where you'll eat."

Rigsby laughed, a grin splitting his face, no doubt already thinking of where he wanted to eat, "You're letting me win. No way would the boss ask Jane out. You could have just bet that Jane wouldn't ask her out, that's more likely."

Cho put one hand out towards Rigsby for a handshake, "Seal the deal?"

Rigsby met it with a firm, decisive shake, almost gleefully, until Cho smirked, "You never said in what order they'd have to ask."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for leaving comments! lisbon69 (Thanks! Though I'll still be busy and so maybe I'm not really back per say…), mwalter1 (so can teachers ), Jisbon4ever (They should just get Rigsby a feed bag.), Frogster (No one can quip one liners like Cho can.), Simonisthecuttestmentalist (Thanks!).

Okay people, don't want to get your hopes up. This entire fic is seven chapters long I think and it's not going to resolve anything. It was written for a summer secret santa present and in my rush it has not been edited other than cursory editing by me. It is left rather open ended.

**Chapter 2**

Lisbon was crouched next to the body in the bit of woods between Sacramento and Placer County lines. They weren't too far from Folsom Lake, but the body she was next to clearly wasn't planning on any water activities from the business suit he was wearing. A shadow fell over her, Jane stepping in from the side to view the body with slight interest, hands in his pockets.

"See anything?" Lisbon asked as she rose up next to him, giving her hands a quick brush against each other. As the local sheriff had noted (and clearly visible to anyone) there was a gash on the man's brow, caused not by a knife, but something else, likely a blunt instrument. Other than the bloody gash and the red stain that had run down from the wound to the man's white collar, he and his suit appeared pristine. Legs neatly placed together, arms at his sides, barely a wrinkle in his clothes.

"Well, it is odd," Jane began as he bent over slightly, "one would expect him to have been hit from behind with the lack of defensive wounds and such to the front of him or his arms…"

And as she had already noted his clothes were pristine, not a stitch out of place, not on the sleeves nor anywhere else. In fact, had it not been for the blood on the collar of his shirt that obviously ran there in the last dying pumps of his heart in a stream down his head and neck one would think he had laid himself on the ground.

Jane was sitting on his heels now, staring intently at the clothing then looked up at her, "They've already took pictures and gathered evidence?"

"Well, some- what are you doing?"

As soon as Lisbon confirmed, Jane had pulled the dead man's shoulder up, Lisbon's exclamation had brought the attention of the sheriff and forensic team. Jane looked up triumphantly and pointed, "He's wearing dead man clothes."

"Jane, get your hands off the body," Lisbon said, already looking warily at the officials coming over. They didn't look happy.

"Gladly, but I noticed how the suit looked spotless, more so than his shirt, it didn't seem to have soaked up the blood. This man had been changed, the back of this suit has Velcro. You may want to question some funeral homes," Jane stood up, having gathered an audience as he spoke of his insights, then frowned at his hands, looking entreatingly around, "Does anyone have some hand sanitizer?"

"God Jane! You are lucky they finished taking crime scene photos before we got there! Never touch anything! And if you do, wear gloves or something!" Lisbon was briskly walking, just under storming, down the halls of CBI with Jane striding after her, barely bemused, in fact he was a little entertained by the flash of fire in her eyes. If anyone ever could claim to have an honest face, it was her.

Van Pelt watched the two go by, not too surprised. It was a common enough scene. From her desk she was able to see down the bit of hall where Lisbon's office lay just off of the bullpen and saw Jane follow their boss straight in. It was a split second later he stumbled back as if spit out by a large monster. The door closed in his face. Grace could tell that the boss wasn't too angry with him from the lack of force in the door closing, just frustrated. She was glad she wasn't in the car with them.

The young "rookie" (she had been working alongside them for two years, yet would always be branded so) had been creating a list of funeral homes and calling them. What brand of clothing did they use, or what service did they use to alter them for their usage? This was just… creepy. It could only be premeditated murder, but who would kill their victim front on then dress and lay them with care?

"Find something Grace?"

Van Pelt looked up at Jane who leaned over her shoulder slightly, looking at her computer screen before meeting her eyes.

"I think I've narrowed it down to three funeral homes now," she replied, trying not to show that it slightly irritated her when people looked over her shoulder without her invitation.

He smiled at her knowingly, "That was very fast. Trying to keep your mind off of something?"

She rolled her eyes away from him and pointedly ignored him. Jerk.

Grace was surprised by the gentle pat on her shoulder and threw a quizzical look at Jane's back as he ambled to his couch. It was clear he rarely thought about other people's feelings (or rather he thought about them, he just didn't care if the feelings were negative), but sometimes the things he did were quite baffling.

Jane drowsed on the leather that had finally warmed to his body. The A/C had been mercifully turned on against the heat of the day, but with the shadow of the couch back thrown over the seat cushions it left an unwanted chill on his favorite napping zone. Really, this couch was a luxury, but it provided a comfort and a bubble of quiet away from the others for him to think on. His mind had been straying from Red John as of late, perhaps that was natural as there had not been a case for several months now in any relation to the serial killer. There were only so many times a mind could obsessively run down every last detail of every last list, of every possible connections known factually and extraneously, and he had these past seven years uncountable times, an infinite amount of times.

Today, he let his mind a moment of reprieve. It was just one of those days; he felt it since this morning when he had nodded off for a time in Lisbon's office. He wouldn't feel refreshed, but just a little better, a little sharper than before, before the guilt set in that he had actually rested when he had promised to himself in the memory of his lost family. He had promised to not rest until he had their killer.

In those early days, in the years following, it was not a difficult promise to keep. He could not sleep in any case since when he did that day would play over and over, sometimes twisting his memories bitterly, other times down to every, exact detail, down to the metallic scent. Then, on those rare nights, sometimes, he would see a happy memory which was worse. Knowing that that was not how it was any longer, not reality, in contrast to the grisly scenes that painted the walls of his mind…

But now, today, he could catch snatches of dreamless naps, moments of unconsciousness where his eyes may rest without consequence, thus far at least. A slight distraction never hurt the process, as long as the mind didn't cling to it as that may very well harm the progression of drifting off; Elvis rocking out on the ceiling, or a curtain of dark hair and flashing green eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the long delay in updates. I like to let them sit :-P

Thanks for reading and especially to those of you who leave comments, I appreciate them all!

Chocolate fish (Cookie carcasses make me sad, if only they replenished themselves…), lisbon69 (Sorry in my delays story and message wise! I'm not a good message person. Glad you like it.), Frogster (I could use Cho's poker face as well and his awesome one liners.), Jisbon4ever (the wait is over finally, took me long enough to load this…)

Please leave a comment and enjoy! (Or enjoy then leave a comment?)

**Chapter 3**

The case progressed with starts and stops, enough stops to aggravate Lisbon, though she had experienced such cases many times before. She knew she couldn't expect all cases to run smoothly and didn't, but it was still a nice thought. The list Van Pelt had created had led to nowhere. They had found that the suspect, now in custody, was someone who had previously worked for a funeral home out of state, which explained the clothing, knowhow, and the initial dead end with local investigations.

Regardless of frustrations, they had gathered evidence, captured their suspect, forensics found the murder weapon, Cho and Jane extracted a confession, and another case was closed. Lisbon bought them their first round of drinks and hot wings at a bar some distance from the office, a well deserved closed case celebration after two weeks of investigation. The team had a table against a wall, the women sitting next to each other, Grace next to the wall with Cho across from her and Jane next to him, which left Rigsby at the end. There wasn't much talking between them, instead allowing the music from the speakers and conversations amid other patrons fill the silence in the worn bar.

Rigsby picked at the table's surface where an inappropriate word had been carved in, only one of hundreds of others that marred the many surfaces of this establishment, including endearments, typical hearts with initials and so forth. It added to the character of the place, along with the signed dollar bills, pictures, and articles of clothing stapled to the ceiling and support beams. He was a fan of their house pickles and hot wings.

It wasn't too long before conversations picked up, a song playing reminding one of something, Rigsby's excitement over the hot wings led to talk of other foods. Lisbon sat back and let herself relax, sipping her beer. It was nice to unwind a bit after the weeks they've had, months even. The weekend wasn't long enough, however, to ease her stresses, but it would have to do.

Hightower's placement as the director of CBI HQ had long unsettled Lisbon. A new person she had known nothing about, suddenly in a position of power over her had put her on edge. She had to tread very carefully, not knowing exactly what the new director was all about.

With Minelli the senior agent knew how far she could push things, of course it helped that he had a bit of a soft spot for her, even somewhat fatherly at times, as far as bosses went. He was pretty easy to read, didn't play games, and left the teams to their senior agents to discipline (unless the AG and/or DA were breathing down his neck more than usual after one of Jane's stunts…).

With Hightower it felt like she was always under intense scrutiny when within visual range, Hightower didn't seem to have any inclination to ask Lisbon her opinion or consulting her before giving orders to the team. She was difficult to read and had no compunction in playing mind games, though when she was playing them was also hard to know, but Lisbon had her suspicions. Regardless of her feelings, she had to follow orders. Lisbon looked up and caught Jane's glance in her direction, his sly smile seeming to hint on having read her mind. She pursed her lips to stop a scowl and instead raised an eyebrow (not quite successful in stopping her eyes from rolling) before casting her gaze on the others.

Van Pelt was taking part in the conversation none too reservedly as the talk of football came up. It put Lisbon at ease to see the strain disappear, at least in this setting. Rigsby and Van Pelt were professional at the office and in the field, though the tension between the two was apparent to anyone who bothered to look. It had been easing lately to allow for times like these where they seemed to forget themselves momentarily. Lisbon had been certain that things would work themselves out eventually without forcing the issue, not that Hightower would let it alone… not to say that Lisbon wasn't totally adverse to the idea of totally avoiding the issue, in fact she was very well practiced in avoidance. She furtively studied Jane a moment. Sometimes it was just better not to acknowledge some things.

Lisbon closed the door behind her, locking it, slipping off her blazer and threw it on the small dining table near the door as she found the cabinet in her dark apartment, lit only by the bars of dim orange light allowed through the blinded windows. She found the cabinet and opened it, reaching in and feeling the cool, rectangular and weighty glass, slight sloshing sounds disturbing the silence as she pulled it down, clinking against a tumbler which she brought down as well.

Lisbon had only the one beer at the bar, observing her team quietly. It was difficult, however, to completely let herself go from all the stresses of work in their presence. Besides, she had to drive home.

Now, alone, she took the bottle and glass to the couch, sitting in the dark for a moment before turning on the television, bringing the volume down, not much caring for what was on, and poured herself a drink, settling back into the cushions, willing herself to clear her mind of all but the burn of liquid down her throat and her stomach. She had only eaten a couple hot wings, a handful of peanuts, Rigsby helping quite a lot from disallowing her much food had she wanted much anyway.

Eyes weighed down into long blinks and she wasn't sure how much time passed between each period her eyes were open, only that when she was awake long enough she would pour herself another drink. Sam. The idiot followed her to Sacramento, his last words weren't of his wife as it should have been. Hightower. She was worth another. Another long blink, something on the flashy screen drew her attention. Nothing worth noting. Her head rolled slowly and froze. Jane.

Jane was standing in front of the coffee table, lips pressed grimly together, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

"What the hell?" she forced out, trying to rouse herself out of her stupor and shock, staring up at him, "How did you-?"

"I've known," he finally said, words spoken quietly, deliberately; they sounded gravelly, "that you haven't been happy for a while now…" She noticed that the bottle she was certain had been near her edge of the coffee table was now placed at his end. He must have picked it up. "But this?"

The cold of dread bloomed in her chest and head, clearing her muddied senses slightly. She couldn't look at him. Lisbon knew he was no illusion, knew she was conscious, otherwise the stark dead of night wouldn't resound in her ears so clearly. Her heart wouldn't clench so painfully.

"Go away."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Jane said softly. Lisbon turned her head towards him, looking up at him from the corners of her tired eyes. She saw the flickering gleam in his. His shadowed face seemed unreadable, was that pity?

"I know he meant a lot to you, you looked up to him. This was a tradition after closing cases… but now," Jane had moved closer as he spoke, a step away from the couch that Lisbon sat on, paralyzed by shame and alcohol induced slowed reactions as every word seemed to be both muffled and amplified, "you're turning into something that isn't you. This isn't a harmless shot at the end of a case with friends. With your family history-"

"Don't you dare go there!" Lisbon shouted, jerking up onto her feet, finally summoning a response, "You don't have the right!"

She was suddenly larger than her petite body could account for, suddenly in the consultant's face as he took a step back, startled. He was too close to the situation and she too influenced for him to read her properly. It was a reaction he expected, but it still alarmed him to some degree. Lisbon advanced on Jane in a stumbling stagger.

"You don't have the right," she repeated in a hiss, stilling from a lurch, "Who are you to judge me? You're the man who's been swearing to take Red John, to kill him, you're going to force me to- to arrest you! Before your family died you cheated people out of their money! What kind of man are you to judge me? It took until your wife and daughter were killed before you stopped lyin' about being a psychic and even now you still lie and play your games. You just- you jus', lie all the time…"

Lisbon swayed and became rigid again as Jane put a hand out towards her in attempts to steady her. He didn't count on the fist.

Jane was on the floor and blinked, sparks danced across his vision in his daze, but was quickly ignored in favor of the pain at both back of his head and his face. He groaned and brought a hand up to tenderly explore his head. He had both heard and felt the popping crunch of his nose and could taste the metallic flavor of blood on the back of his tongue, as well as feel the sticky flow running across his face. There was a thump next to him.

"Shit."

Had he not felt her wrath just a moment ago he would have laughed at the plaintive way she had cursed after dropping a man with one knockout punch. As it was he was trying to ascertain the condition of his nose and trying to stop the room from spinning. Thankfully it was dark.

Jane felt a sudden weight on his chest and coughed, certain Lisbon had just plopped her head on him. He was sure his blood was staining the carpet he lay on as he finally had the presence of mind to dig out his handkerchief from a pocket and try to staunch the flow. He realized that his chest was damp and cautiously raised his head, wincing. At the movement Lisbon bolted back, crashing into the coffee table, cursing, the bottle falling off the edge and spilling what little there was left onto the floor. The light from the television screen caught the tear tracks on Lisbon's face.

Lisbon had the look of a spooked animal curled on the floor next to him, but it was momentary. Fury blazed across her face as she staggered to her feet, pulling him up by the lapels of his jacket. She dragged him to the door, he barely able to set one foot in front of the other, trying to bear his weight.

Lisbon swung him around to face her, their eyes locked, her face cold, "Don't ever break into my house again."

He was pushed out of the suddenly open door, which swiftly closed behind him. Leaving him out, alone. He decided to heed Lisbon's warning for the time being and also realized that despite his hate of doctors and hospitals it would not be a bad idea to have his nose checked out. He did not want a crooked nose as a constant reminder of his ill timed, misjudged break in and "talk" with Lisbon. She would also likely appreciate not having to see a daily reminder of her violence and shameful flaw.

Jane carefully walked down the short steps and made his way to his car by the sidewalk, hoping his eyes wouldn't swell and close up while he was driving when for the second time that night he felt an explosion and saw stars.

Lisbon slumped against the front door, having slid down it after pushing Jane outside, weeping bitterly and trying to stop. She was furious, not at Jane, but herself. She had become what she had sworn never to become- she had become just like her father. Jane just had to be there to not only witness it, but become her first victim. She was horrified that things had escalated as they had so shortly, she had quickly become a monster and hurt someone she cared about, someone who, despite his own flaws, had come in out of worry. She knew that's what it was. She had to protect him from herself, she didn't know what else she might do which is why she had dragged and thrown him out of the house. Better to throw him out while he only had a bloody nose.

The adrenaline rush and guilt had done their job in shaking and sobering her, she didn't think about facing Jane at this moment. Everything was a mess, but she knew one thing she could do. She opened the cabinet in the dark and fumbled, feeling the other bottles, removing the caps and upturning them, draining the contents into the kitchen sink. Never again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** The last chapter was difficult to write because of Lisbon's alcoholism. I think several people would agree with me that the show didn't really deal with it. For all I know it might be fodder for a future episode, they just didn't have to time to develop it in the second season. I did what I could with it and perhaps it wasn't the most realistic way she may have dealt with it, very few people can cold turkey an addiction, but maybe we can say Lisbon is one of the very few who can?

Thank you all for leaving me a comment! Love them! Lisbon69 (Perhaps I have a knack for hurting our favorite characters, an oft used story device unfortunately, not original, but hey, you guys are still reading this right? :-P), dogeatdog (Thanks for the compliments, undeserved as they may be. I try.), Anna (Thanks!), Frogster (Admit it, we love concerned Jane and Lisbon needing hugs. If I thought people would like it I'd write the shortest Mentalist fanfic ever. Lisbon needed a hug, Jane gave her one. The End. lol.), Jisbon4ever (You know Lisbon hits hard, I'm thinking the first time we saw her punch Jane in the nose when he made her think they were all going to die that she held back a bit.), Jbon (Thanks and now you'll find out about the second explosion.).

Thanks again! Please read and review!

**Chapter 4**

Jane couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips as he woke to the throbbing pain in his head concentrated mostly from the back of his head, but the sting of his likely swollen nose pulsated in counterpoint to that with every beat of his heart. It took him a while to think of opening his eyes and a little while longer to realize that he didn't know where he was. He was horrified to discover that he was tied to a chair. Why was he so susceptible to kidnapping?

He determined he was in some sort of storage space, crudely built as light came through the seams of walls that didn't quite match up to the roof, a few holes allowed beams to streak through the darkness. The brightness of the light allowed him to believe it was somewhere around midday and permitted him to see his surroundings to an extent. It looked like a workshop, large enough for repairing a car, he thought he saw several greasy stains on the cement floor, a large one near the center of the room only a few feet in front of him.

Looking up to observe everything he spotted a large metal hook suspended from the ceiling with an equally large chain, the kind that you would use to pull up an engine with… he had a horrible feeling about the greasy stains on the floor and suspected they were not all oil stains. He looked up at the hook again. Every visible tool had a frightening new meaning as his mind automatically made its deductions on the type of person it would take to knock a person out, have them tied up in some sort of shed, awaiting their fate. The person had to be confident either that Jane would not become conscious before they came back or they were too far away from any populated area for anyone to hear them… his heart sank as he took note of the eerie quiet. No sounds of talking, dogs barking in the back yards, no sounds of cars driving by. There was only the heat and himself.

Jane didn't like at all the profile his mind created. From what he could discern from his surroundings he was most likely the hostage of a psychopath and therefore will find it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to appeal to the person's better nature. This person, most likely a man, would have no conscience and would receive enjoyment from the pain of others.

He studied his bounds and tugged at them experimentally. Unfortunately there was no give. He had been expertly tied at wrists, ankles, and upper arms were tied down to himself and to the chair back. He wished his hands had been tied together and not separately to the arm rests. He tried to wiggle his wrists to get some blood flowing, but even that was difficult. His hands felt cold despite the heat and he felt rather nauseated.

He had found himself divested of his jacket and vest, which he spotted crumpled to the side against a wall. His back was to the main entrance. He was convinced it was for the purpose of causing more anxiety in not allowing the victim to immediately see the danger, but to hear it first as the doors opened.

Jane coughed and held back the urge to vomit. The pounding in his head had not abated by much. It made it difficult to concentrate for any long period of time. He let himself rest, predicting he'd need his strength for later. No use shouting for help either as that'd be a waste of energy. He deduced that he was likely in an abandoned building off a little used road, or ghost town. This could have been the repair shop that was part of a gas station and tow service.

The bound man thought of the moments leading up to this dire predicament. Lisbon. His heart sank. Her probable course of action after having thrown him out of her home was to dump the remaining liquor in her cabinets, horrified at what had transpired. She would then avoid him out of guilt. At least until Monday when she was faced with her handiwork. Lisbon probably was keeping busy, trying to keep from dwelling too long on the events of late Friday night, and failing as she went running, cleaned up her house, saw the bloodstain, leave the house to shop for groceries as she wondered how he was doing, and then return home again only for more cleaning.

No one would be looking for him until Monday.

Jane didn't even know what day it was, it could be Saturday, but who was to say that he hadn't been unconscious for longer? In a way he wished it was already Monday so he didn't have to suffer a weekend.

Jane was startled from a doze when he heard the sound of clinking metal scraping, probably chains being removed from the door. He hoped it was someone come to save him and he twisted his neck, trying to catch the opening doors. The light hit his sensitive eyes and blinded him a moment, causing him to turn away and closing his eyes. He heard the scuff of boots against the concrete behind him and smelled the thick cloying, sweet smell of cigar smoke. It was familiar. His mind had finished processing the possibilities just a bare moment before his captor appeared before him.

"Culpepper."

"_Some day, when you least expect it, I'll find you."_

The man stood there in his cowboy boots, a chilling smile curled his lips as he took his time removing his cigar out of his mouth. Jane heard some shuffling behind him and realized that he had not come alone.

"I'm touched, you remember me," pleasured sarcasm oozed out from serpentine thin lips, then he frowned mockingly, "It's too bad somebody got to you before I did. Agent Lisbon was it? Were you tryin' to get into her pants? You're not man enough to even take a girl."

He took a contemplative drag on his cigar as Jane sat quietly, trying to hold his gag reflex.

"Not too chatty today it looks like. Last time we met you had plenty to say, but I guess that could be because you thought you were safe with all that bacon around you," Culpepper smirked, "Wasn't too hard to get you. Didn't think I was serious about coming after you, did you?"

The lanky ex-con stepped forward, placing a foot nonchalantly onto the bit of exposed seat between Jane's legs and leaned forward, taking another drag off of his half-burned cigar, blowing the blue smoke into the captive's face. Jane was not at all comfortable with the close proximity of the acne scarred face or the placement of the booted foot. Steely eyes bored into Jane's swollen, squinted eyes.

Culpepper's attention was drawn to his cigar for a moment and in that contemplative look Jane held in a shudder as he interpreted its meaning. After a moment longer Culpepper only put it back in his mouth, apparently having determined it would be a waste since there was still much of it left to smoke. His eyes met Jane's, then he removed his foot, stepping back leisurely and finally spoke again in his smoke cured voice, "I hope you've rested up. Damn right nice of me to let you, but I had to seeing that you weren't fresh when I first got you. You still aren't."

He stared at Jane, clearly expecting something to be said whether a plea or a curse. He became impatient, "You've got anything to say?"

Jane tried to moisten his dry lips with his almost equally dry tongue, "I don't suppose I could talk you out of letting me go and forget this whole thing? That the police will come looking for me?"

There was a harsh bark of laughter before narrowed eyes returned to him, amused as a cat playing with its prey, "Come now, you can't believe that'll actually happen? No one will come looking for you for a couple of days. Plenty of time for us to get… better acquainted. Boys," Culpepper nodded his head at the men behind Jane.

The sounds of approaching footsteps caused Jane's heart to leap like a rabbit. Meaty hands clamped down on him as they cut through the ropes holding him, not caring if they cut him. He couldn't help letting out a yelp of pain as a box cutter nicked him. He struggled against them futilely as they tied his wrists together and pulled him up. Culpepper had brought down the hook by way of a hand crank. It wasn't long before he was hanging by his wrists with his feet no longer touching the ground.

The leader tapped his forehead as if having forgotten something, though it was clearly an insincere move, "Oh silly me, I should have taken your shirt off so it wouldn't get dirty. Here, let me help."

The ex-con reached into the back pocket of his jeans and flipped out a butterfly knife with practiced ease and approached, a cruel grin spread across his lean features, "We're going to have some fun…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** Yes, very angsty. The Mentalist makes it easy to do angst. They keep things light and do it well, otherwise we'd always be depressed. Just thinking about the premise of the show is rather depressing. I do enjoy the lighter, funnier things, but like adding a pinch of salt to your pie, or a pinch of sugar in chili, it makes it more flavorful and enjoyable. Sorry, been watching a lot of cooking shows lately due to my TV deciding not to cooperate, limiting me to 2 to 5 channels on any given day. Thankfully CBS is unaffected lol.

Anyway, thanks go out to those who took the time to leave a comment. I encourage all of you to do so and continue to do so :-D.

Lisbon69 (Yes, it is very wrong of you to have M rated thoughts of a shirtless, trussed up Jane… mmmmm… Hey! I didn't say I wasn't prone to the guilty thought either. I didn't even think about it until you mentioned it in this comment. LOL! Thanks for your continual support!), Vermontgirl61 (Thank you very much! Though I can't say I delve too much into this story line.), lysjelonken (Glad it was an effective cliff hanger for you :-P), Aeryn Lavanthia (Thanks for being in the opinion that this is a "gripping" story), Jisbon4ever (What spoilers? I haven't seen spoilers! I must search for them! Yeah, surprisingly we got some of Cho's past, of course Jane's, but then again I would guess they want to spread out the great reveal. There's still Van Pelt's dark past/memory and of course more of Lisbon. I still wonder what case it was that Bosco and her didn't tell anyone about the not so accidental killing. And I've got to wonder about Rigsby, he's the only one that seems to not have much of a past other than his dad apparently having been in a motorcycle gang. But then again what if Rigsby was the true evil or something and the big, dumb oaf thing is all an act? That would be quite a twist…), AS74 (Sorry, when I see your name it made me think "Alaska Airlines 74". My summer work involves data entry for flights. Thanks for being interested in my story!), MK (Glad you're looking forward to it and here it is!)

**Chapter 5**

Lisbon stared at her phone. It stared blankly back.

About half an hour ago she had made the decision that she should talk to Jane before Monday came, to clear the air, to find out if he was okay… and, even though she didn't deserve it, if he might forgive her, or at least will be able to continue working with her. She'd understand if he wanted to quit, or transfer at least. No, he wouldn't do either of those things, he would probably only bother her more, take up residence in her office rather than his couch out in the bullpen.

She sighed. If only it would be as lighthearted as that. It might still, but only after they talk and he would most probably insist on talking about certain… issues. Like… her problem. The one she solved already. Had solved after she kicked him to the curb. Really, there was no problem left other than what had happened. He should have known better than to pick the lock and come into her home uninvited in any case.

Lisbon rested her forehead against the cool surface of her dining table. No. He hadn't deserved that and her problem was still persistent, if not the consuming then the reason why she began. She turned her head to stare at the wall for a while, then onto her chin, the cell phone sitting right in front of her on the wooden surface. She sighed once more before sitting up and taking the phone into her hands, speed dialing Jane's number before she had a chance to stop herself.

The thudding in her chest increased with each ring, anticipating the moment Jane picked up. She had no idea what to say. But then it went to voice mail and her speech stumbled, "Uh, hi Jane, it's me, Lisbon. I- I'm really sorry about Friday night and I hope you're doing okay. I just wanted to see if you were fine. I didn't mean to hit you so hard, I mean, I didn't mean to hit you at all. I'm- please call me back and we can talk about it. Bye."

She hung up and was partially mortified with the message she left. She wished she had the option of erasing it and starting over, but as it was there was no choice and it had already been recorded and sent. She sighed again and wondered if he would call her back.

Why couldn't life be simple?

It was Saturday night, it had taken the whole day of constant avoidance and thinking for her to come to the conclusion that she had to talk to Jane, that she couldn't leave it alone for a whole weekend as she would have. He probably wouldn't want to see her, but she had tried at least. It was a big step for her. She had to make things right.

Lisbon turned to look out her windows. The sun was setting. She wondered what Jane was up to. Perhaps he didn't want to pick up the call. Maybe he was already sleeping. She instantly snorted to herself. No, he wouldn't be sleeping yet, it was too early, but then again she wasn't really privy to his weekend activities. What did he do on the weekends anyway when there was no work? Go to the park? She imagined him as a street performer, doing his tricks for adoring fans, it was enough for her to crack a small smile, her first this whole day. It didn't last, however.

The spots of blood on the living room floor came to mind. She had witnessed him being punched in the nose numerous times, she had herself delivered one of those punches when he had led her to believe they were all going to die from a deadly virus. But last night was the first time she had seen blood gush out of his oft abused nose in the two years of working together.

Even if Jane eventually forgave her, Lisbon wouldn't be able to forgive herself. How could she? She had spent the better part of her life hating the now deceased man she had called "Dad" for exactly the same thing. Someone she had loved and trusted, someone who was supposed to protect and raise her and her brothers had betrayed them all with drink and abuse. Nothing was worse than hurting the ones you cared for.

Perhaps she cared a little more than was appropriate for colleagues… Lisbon's thoughts quickly skittered away from that thought, her eyes darting to the phone she had once again set on the table, willing it to ring.

Nothing happened.

She decided she might as well heat up something to eat. He'll call when he does.

Jane awoke to darkness. Not completely true as pale pools of star and moonlight dotted his prison's floor. He must have passed out and by the feel of agony in just taking shallow breaths, he had at least cracked ribs and that was just one thing on the long list of pains he felt. He had to fight from passing out again as he was still hanging by his wrists which exacerbated his wounds along his stretched body. The tortured man was rather thankful that he had lost consciousness when he did. As much as he hurt now, it was likely worse when he first received them. Probably. It was difficult to tell, as it was he wanted to scream and weep.

Jane couldn't feel his hands. He looked up, groaning at the effort and tried to concentrate on the blurry, shadowed things above him. If he could only get himself off the hook. He didn't have the energy to laugh out loud, but he was able to spare a pathetic snort at the unintentional pun. The small snort caused a stab of pain through his torso which brought on a coughing fit that wracked his whole body. He had fainted again it seems, he wasn't sure. He looked up, right, wrists.

A noise startled him, causing him to flinch, hoping that Culpepper hadn't returned so soon in the night. There the noise was again. He tried to turn his head in the direction of the faint sound, trying to determine its source… his cell phone! Jane was in disbelief. His cell phone was on and hadn't been taken away! What luck! But this bit of chance would be of no use if he couldn't get to the phone.

Lisbon waited impatiently for Jane to pick up. It was nearly midnight and she couldn't go to bed without trying one more time. It went to voice mail again. She took a breath that came out in a sigh and spoke remorsefully into the mouthpiece, staring down into her mug of half finished coffee, "Hey Jane. I know you have the right to hate me, but I just need to know you're alright. You don't have to say anything, just call so I know that you're fine. If-" and here Lisbon's voice became reminiscent of her old self, "if you don't call me back by morning I'll track you down so I can see how you're doing. Seriously Jane, I'm so sorry about Friday night and I just want to know that you're okay, or if you're not okay maybe I can help out somehow to make it up to you?"

She hung up, under normal circumstances she may have been rather embarrassed by her pleading tone, but now was not the time for her pride. Jane normally called back quickly when he missed a call, or he wouldn't call back, but would seemingly appear out of nowhere to surprise her causing her to jump a bit at times, a mischievous grin accompanying his face. Of course, these weren't normal circumstances. What if he was more hurt than she had thought? What if he was in the hospital? Lisbon tried to rein in her wild thoughts and attempted to be reasonable.

Tomorrow, if he hadn't called back by the time she got up in the morning she would call again then start looking for him starting at the CBI HQ. Hopefully she'll find him resting on his couch. And if not there… she'll find him.

A course of action decided, Lisbon relaxed. She wasn't being unjustly paranoid, just very worried and if it all turned out that he had been avoiding her and was sleeping on the couch well then, there was no reason to be embarrassed. She'd be reassured and apologize in person and leave him alone, after making sure he was fine of course.

"_Hello?"_ answered the tired voice

"Lisbon!" Jane rasped in excitement, then coughed. He hadn't had anything to drink in over a day, his lips were cracked, but that was the least of his problems. He could see the pale light of twilight in the cracks and holes in the roof brighten into morning and it frightened him.

"_Jane? Are you all right? I'm so sorry about-"_ Lisbon's concerned voice carried over from the ear piece clearly and was the most wonderful sound he had heard, but he was in serious trouble and had to cut her off.

"Lisbon, there's no time for that. Culpepper's got me locked up in some old abandoned auto shop."

"_What? What are you talking about?"_ Lisbon was clearly puzzled.

"Donny Culpepper, remember the Doverton case? He was a suspect. I don't know how much time I have. He's got me locked up, I'm trying to find a way out. It's probably off an old road or in a ghost town, I haven't heard any people or cars nearby. I was taken right after you kicked me out…"

Lisbon was wide awake and memorizing every detail as she tumbled off the bed and rushed to pull on clothes.

"Jane, I'm going to get the team, hang in there. How are you doing? What does he want? Are you all right?"

"_He's already got what he wants, which is me- I hear something. Lisbon, I'm silencing this phone and hiding it, I know you'll do your best."_

"Jane!" she called out, but he had already hung up his phone. He hadn't sounded like himself, but Culpepper had him for a whole day, what was going on? She didn't have time to think, she needed to get out of the house. Collecting her gun, cuffs, and badge on the way out she called in an APB on Culpepper then called the team, starting with Van Pelt who she instructed to trace Jane's phone. Cho was assigned with communicating with SWAT and appraising them of the situation.

As she climbed into her car, a thought occurred to her: where is Jane's car? She got back out and looked around for the familiar silver Citroën (deathtrap), but found no evidence of it. He had said he was taken right after she forced him out of the house. He didn't mention driving. She called in a BOLO after Jane's car in hopes of narrowing their search.

Driving to the office as quickly as she would allow herself (five over the speed limit) she thought to herself, 'I told him, I told him! Don't mess with dangerous people! He never listens…'

Lisbon met Cho at the elevator, he gravely acknowledged her. It was nearing an hour after she had spoken with Jane and she was trying to tamp down the bright panic that was forcing its way up. She just needed something to do, something to focus her energies on.

Van Pelt was thankfully already at the office, a cup of steaming coffee next to her keyboard as she rapidly tapped away. She looked up at them as they entered the bullpen.

"Boss, I was able to triangulate the approximate area of Jane's phone, I'm searching to find possible locations now," she said by way of greeting.

"Good," Lisbon commented, lacking other words.

Rigsby arrived a moment later in jeans and a t-shirt, clearly not having taken the time to shave or comb his hair. Lisbon didn't look much better having only used her fingers to try and straighten out her hair and tying it back with a hair tie she found in her car.

A phone rang, Lisbon quickly picked it up, hoping for something helpful, "Lisbon," she answered.

Jane's car had been found abandoned west of Sacramento in Yolo County off the side of a road. She was torn between wanting to send someone to investigate it and to keep her team together. It was very likely that the car had been driven there to mislead them when they went to find Jane. No, she would ask her colleagues in Yolo County to keep an eye on it and look for evidence.

"Boss," the red haired junior agent called out, drawing the senior's attention away from the call. She gave her instructions and hung up, going over to Van Pelt.

"It looks like he's in Placer County near Last Chance," the younger women supplied once she had everyone's attention. Nobody commented on the name, but Rigsby commented, "Never heard of the place, where is it?"

Everyone picked up to go having prepared while Van Pelt preformed the search by computer. The team's computer expert got up to go with them, Lisbon didn't order for anyone to stay. Jane was one of their own, they would all go.

"It's an abandoned town off of I-80, also has abandoned mines around it," Grace answered as they went down the elevator.

They took two cars and updated SWAT on the situation.

Lisbon was stone-faced, not allowing herself to think, but to focus only on the task at hand. If she had allowed her mind to wander desperation would have descended and likely affect and distract her team. In an unspoken agreement Cho rode with her, leaving Van Pelt to ride with Rigsby, a decision they didn't hesitate over in these circumstances.

Jane had faded in and out of consciousness after Culpepper's surprised lackey had arrived. It wasn't much of a contest and Jane had been trussed up like a side of beef, once more tied and hanging from the hook. He had to deal with the frustrations of a bruised goon he had managed to hit with a wrench before he was taken down. If only he had been able to hit the man's head.

He thought he heard shouting at some point, then a silhouette. He knew without being able to see her face in the bright light surrounding her that it had to be Lisbon. But he also acknowledged that he might be in a delirium. More than possible concussion due to Friday night, untreated wounds inflicted on him throughout Saturday, shock, dehydration…

Jane let out a yelp as someone pulled him down, aggravating his many wounds. His eyes cracked open as he was laid down on the cold ground.

"Lisbon?"

"Oh God Jane!" she exclaimed, taking in his damaged body and the smells. He was almost unidentifiable. Curls were limp, saturated with blood and sweat, plastering much of his hair against his skull. He had a raccoon mask of a bruise pattern that flushed her with guilt, a newer bruise around his left eye had swollen his lids almost closed. Then there was his bared chest. Previous experience ruthlessly identified many of his wounds and probable causes even as she tried to stop. An ambulance was on its way.

Rigsby had taken Jane down and worked on the ropes that bound their battered consultant. A horrified Van Pelt had presence of mind to run to the car for a bottle of water and a blanket kept in the back trunk where they stored their Kevlar vests. SWAT had taken Jane's recent torturer into custody with Cho giving directions.

Lisbon had removed her blazer and tucked it under Jane's head, settling it down with care. His right eye squinted up at her against the light he perceived as being too bright. She wanted to comfort him, but was too afraid to causing him more pain as he clearly was in when Rigsby lowered him to the ground.

Hands were freed, Van Pelt carefully draped the blanket over him, handing Lisbon the water bottle.

"Lisbon, you're here?" Jane rasped out, coughing and grimacing, eyes closing.

"Here Jane, we've got some water for you," she spoke softly, trying not to let the others see how much she was affected by his state even as Rigsby cursed under his breath and Van Pelt hovered at the periphery of her vision. She opened the bottle and debated how best to deliver it, knowing that lying down as he was he'd likely choke.

"Sounds lovely," he croaked feebly. It looked like he had gone unconscious.

"Jane?" a concerned Lisbon couldn't keep the quaver out of her voice. His right eye opened suddenly and a crooked smile appeared on his cracked lips, "Gotchya."

She gave a suspiciously watery sniff, but couldn't hide the tears that threatened to fall in her gleaming eyes as she cleared her throat and looked at him grimly. She gently slid an arm under his neck and shoulder. He grimaced and then gratefully accepted the water. They could hear sirens in the distance by now.

Lisbon made no comment (he had hoped she would) and instead remained silent as she carefully allowed him sips of water. Jane relaxed against her out of exhaustion, finally safe and out of harm's way. In spite of his discomfort he didn't ask to be laid down on the ground again. It wouldn't make much difference. The soothing smells of softener on worn clothes and Lisbon's warmth lulled him into a dreamless sleep despite the ambulance's nearby blare.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** Thanks folks. The chapter after this one will be the last. I make no promises of wrapping up loose ends. The story felt to unravel the more I wrote since I had rushed it trying to get it done for the Summer Secret Santa. I think the first couple chapters were a lot more put together than the latter half of the story. Oh well. You've stuck with me so far. Thanks so much!

Several people commented on the miraculous ability of Jane getting himself off the hook. Well, I figure he's pretty much the Houdini of our time. He's Jane!

Lisbon69 (Thanks so much for all your praise and support!), MK (Yes, Lisbon shall always be to the rescue. I had debated on having Jane being there for several days, but I couldn't do that to him and I figured it'd be nice to have Lisbon try to make contact sooner.), Jisbon4ever (I finally looked up spoilers and saw them in casting form. Is that it? There weren't any clips for the new episodes or anything right? But on the other hand I don't think I want to know any more spoilers until the show starts up again for the season. I'm still waiting for the second season to be out on DVD.), dogeatdog (Fall out to deal with indeed. The question is: will I deal with it? Perhaps not so much…), lysjelonken (Happy? Well… you be the judge .

**Chapter 6**

At the hospital Jane was being treated for his many cuts, broken bones, and burns while Lisbon waited with Rigsby. Cho had taken it upon himself to question Culpepper's underling and send him to lock up. Van Pelt decided to help by starting on their reports, leaving a useless feeling Rigsby to stay with Lisbon. He brought coffee to his silent boss then sat down, not able to settle, often finding himself bouncing his leg rapidly.

They both were a bit surprised to see Hightower walk into the waiting room.

She gave them a bemused look, "Oh don't give me that, I do care about all of you. Delinquent consultants included."

Rigsby had a "I don't know what you're talking about" face, brows raised innocently. Lisbon had no comment. In fact, after acknowledging the CBI director's presence she was lost in her own thoughts once more.

In her line of work one does witness the work of evil in much more concentrated doses than average. Though Lisbon had seen and experienced some of the evils even before working in law enforcement. Seeing Jane refreshed her own guilt. No one knew about her part in Jane's abduction. No one knew that the bruising around his eyes resulted from a drunken punch to his nose, drawing blood. And Jane had only seen her, had only looked to her for reassurance when they came to rescue him, even after what had happened. He wasn't in his right mind, he might have been more hesitant under different circumstances. He had even tried to cheer her up, even as he had lain in her arms bloodied and fevered with infection.

A doctor wearing light blue scrubs walked towards the group purposefully. Lisbon stood up from her seat expectantly, meeting the physician with some little anxiety. She knew Jane would be fine, it was just the matter of recovery.

"Mr. Jane is resting now. He has suffered a number of fractured ribs, toes, broken nose, as well as a mild concussion, burns, some serious lacerations, blood loss, and dehydration. Due to his… condition, he is suffering some infections which caused the fever you may have noticed. We've put him on antibiotics to take care of that as well as fluids."

"How long will it take him to recover?" Lisbon asked, quietly apprehensive. Hearing the list of injuries spoken out loud by a doctor had only served to cause the senior agent to become even more restless in her want to see Jane.

"That's difficult to say," the doctor replied hesitantly. For some reason it reminded Lisbon of the time Jane was temporarily blinded and his irritation at not knowing for certain when his sight would come back. Not to say she was irritated… okay, maybe a little. It would be nice if she could be guaranteed his full recovery in as little as time possible. She never said it was realistic, it was only a wish.

"Many of his wounds, lacerations, should heal pretty quickly as long as they are kept clean and allowed to air," the doctor continued, "Broken bones will probably take the most time to heal, anywhere from six weeks to three months. Even more. We have yet to see, but there is also a slight possibility that he may need some physical therapy."

The air seemed hypersensitive, sounds coming in extra clear, if still indistinct, to Lisbon's ears as she dumbly nodded now. Three months. Physical therapy. Scars. Her thoughts were interrupted and balked, thinking she must have misheard something.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Lisbon asked, a little embarrassed, a little dazed and tired.

Hightower looked slightly amused even as her face was masked and Rigsby had coughed. Lisbon drew the conclusion that it must be in her reaction to whatever the doctor had said.

The doctor looked at her understandingly, clearly believing that the petite woman was feeling overwhelmed and repeated patiently, "I said that your husband has been asking for you even as we put him under. You may go to his room if you would like, though he should still be asleep."

Lisbon's eyes widened, taken aback as her eyes darted to Hightower and back at the doctor, now understanding the amusement, "Oh no, I'm not-"

"Go ahead Lisbon, check in on your husband," her director sounded indulgent, taking a perverse enjoyment out of this. Lisbon looked back at her in confusion, not sure what to make of her superior, but certain that the dark woman's sense of humor ran close to Jane's.

Not wanting to make a scene and also having wanted to visit Jane, Lisbon acquiesced to the assumption that she was the wife Jane was referring to. She bid farewell to Hightower and instructed Rigsby to return to headquarters and help with searching for Culpepper and his associates. She would return soon.

Of course Lisbon believed Jane must have been delirious and forgotten in his fevered state that his wife was gone… or, there was the possibility that he was aware of what he said and was enjoying the awkwardness it caused Lisbon. That idiot. Knowing the consultant as she did she was almost sure now that he did this on purpose. And if he didn't? Well, then he was in for a depressing reality, a reality where a beautiful wife no longer existed except in his memories.

Lisbon stopped mid stride in the hall, darting against the side to allow rushing doctors and nurses passed her. Why would he want to see her? Her mind drew a blank. She had attacked him, kicked him out of her house which led to his kidnapping and more than a day of tortures. She shook her head. If he had in fact wanted to see her, who was she to deny him? Nonetheless she walked cautiously as though wanting to change her mind at each step and flee the hospital.

She was outside the door a nurse had indicated would be his and stared at it, gathering composure, pulling the ragged edges of herself together. She would go in, check on him, then leave to return to the office and update everyone on Jane's condition and help in the search of the men who did this to him. She hesitated a moment longer, but finally forced herself to push open the large, wheelchair accessible door.

The bed was to her right and he was there, amid the pale sheets and tubing flowing out of him picking up glints from the dimmed lights. His hair was limp, but finally clean. He was still almost unrecognizable, though the swelling in his face had gone down considerably since they had rescued him that morning. Even if he had not been disfigured by bruises and a broken nose, he would still have appeared different if in the fact that he truly appeared to be sleeping. His mouth was slightly open and pale hands (the least affected by his ordeal) lay limply on either side of him, fingers gently curled. From what she observed he appeared to be sleeping deeply, even though induced by medication, and heart monitor showed steady green peaks, someone having thoughtfully turned the monitor on mute.

Lisbon leaned against the door frame, just studying the man who lay before her. Of all nights to confront her, why had it been that Friday? Why not sooner or later? How long had Culpepper been planning on abducting Jane? What had he seen or heard? There were so many questions, but the most important ones had to do with Jane's recovery and bringing the ex-con to justice.

She watched him silently for about five minutes then straightened up off the door frame and turned to open the door.

"Leaving already?"

She didn't startle so much as stiffen in surprise. Of course he would be awake. Typical Jane. She slowly turned back and walked up to the bed, he opened an eye when she was next to him, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Would you be a dear and pour me some water over there?" he asked pitifully, wincing as he tried to draw his eyebrows together to complete the look. She wasn't sure what to make of his request. Was he hamming it up? She quickly complied, he is dehydrated at any rate, putting on a show or not. "And a straw, a bendy one," he added hopefully. She picked up the plastic cup with requested bendy straw provided on the tray that was set on the rolling table near the bed. Being mindful of Jane's condition she filled the cup only halfway to prevent spills.

She stepped back to his side and held the cup out for him. Hands shakily reached up to accept the proffered water, drawing it down to himself and resting it gingerly against his chest. Her furrowed brows clearly expressed her concern as she asked, "Do you want to move the bed up a bit?"

His eyes twitched up to her then back down to the cup and his hands surrounding it, a rueful grin on his face, "I'm afraid to move."

Jane quietly sipped his water as Lisbon let her guard down some, face softening. Cup empty, she removed it from his grasp and placed it back on the tray. She noticed a cut poking out from his gown's sleeve on his upper arm and a few dark stitches. Her lips pressed into a firm line.

"Wrinkles, Lisbon…" Jane said faintly. He looked up at her and saw the miffed and bemused look on her face, as if she couldn't quite figure him out. It wasn't a new look, just not one she wore as often as her sardonic, angry, or warning look when it came to him. There was also the look of guilt. "There's nothing you could have done."

The arms that were crossed over her chest tightened, self-recrimination and distress clear on her face even as she tried to keep a straight face. She would never be able to play poker well.

"Why did you come?" she finally asked, eyes shadowed.

His eyes stayed on her for a long moment then turned them away, turned them down. He rolled his head lightly on his pillow and closed his eyes. Silent for so long was the consultant that the agent almost felt provoked by his act of ignoring her, falling asleep perhaps as well. She became even more subdued and pulled a chair quietly up to the bed, sitting on it.

"You know why."

Jane's eyes were still closed, hands had slid carefully to his sides again. She said nothing. It took much for her to ask the question, she would ask no more today.

"It would do you some good to talk with your brothers more often," he suddenly said, then, "You really shouldn't grimace like that."

Now she was rather annoyed at him. Even with eyes closed they might as well have been open. His uncanny gift of knowing how people were acting around him even without sight was as remarkable as it was exasperating.

"Lisbon?"

"What?"

His features were calm, "Just making sure you're still there."

The agent didn't know what to make of that comment, but decided she should return to the office. The more people they had looking for Culpepper and his gang, the quicker they could wrap this whole thing up.

When she stood up Jane's eyes opened, though they stayed fixed, staring at some point on the ceiling.

"I might want some more water," he said, looking over at her, "maybe someone to turn my pillow to the cool side?"

"I should get going, it wouldn't be fair to the rest of the team. Besides, you could call a nurse for that," she answered, though she again filled his cup with water from the pitcher, handing it to him. His hands settled around hers and he glanced up at her briefly. She stilled her movements, indecision swelling up.

"We could order up some ice cream," he wheedled weakly, eyes almost a shining grey in the dim light.

She had to smile a bit at that and sighed, he perked up, knowing he had convinced her.

"Alright, but I can only stay for a little bit," she said, sitting back down, giving him a humored look, "though I doubt the doctor will let you eat ice cream. The others will be wondering what happened to me."

Jane had allowed her hand to slide away from his as he gripped his water, he smirked, now comfortable again, "Meh, they'll be fine."

She tilted her head slightly to the side. Patrick Jane was almost paradoxical. He had his childlike moments, such as like just now where after getting what he wanted his demeanor changed from pitiful to cheerful. But much of his attitudes, she had realized long ago, were an act. She felt, though, that perhaps this time around that there were equal parts truth and deceit on both presented feelings. He really was lonely and really was happy. Just played them up so that they looked more an act.

Lisbon took the empty cup back from Jane. She had come close to losing another. She turned back to look at him, "Jane?"

"Yes Lisbon?"

Their eyes locked and she didn't know what to say. She looked to the side, embarrassed, "I- I'm glad we found you."

A cool dry hand found hers and she looked down, he having drawn her hand to the bed so it would rest at his side.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:** As previously stated, this story has seven chapters. This is the final chapter. Also, previously mentioned, this story does have loose ends, very few things are wrapped up neatly, if at all. Things are left open ended so I apologize in advance if you receive no satisfaction. One factor was my rush to finish this for the Summer Secret Santa on the Jello Forever site. I hope you all did enjoy this story for what it was, fully developed as it may not have been.

Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting!

dogeatdog (Thank you. Yet another not so action packed chapter.), MK (I'm afraid I don't have Hightower's character down, but she served my purposes for this story. I have a feeling that she would have given them, or more likely Lisbon, a warning of some sort. As for Culpepper… well, I didn't want to deal with him. He's such a nasty guy lol.), lysjelonken (Hm, not as romancy romance as I'd like or I feel that you would like, but read and see.), lisbon69 (Thank you very much! Yeah, I don't like Hightower's mind games, but on the other hand she's leveling the playing field as a supervisor playing mind games to try and control Jane. He doesn't care what happens to him, but he does feel guilty for getting Lisbon in trouble, or more that he doesn't like Lisbon being upset with him. The only time I've seen a "shirtless paddy" would be a clip I saw of Simon in the Guardian, he came into his home from surfing before someone came and tried to kill him. Yeah, that show appears to be very action oriented. I wonder what the 3rd season of Mentalist will bring. We can only dream of shirtless Jane lol.)

**Chapter 7**

It took three weeks of dogged searches and investigations before they found Culpepper in a rat hole of a hideout. If in their frustrations they may have slammed him against a wall with a little too much force, or tightened the cuffs a bit too tight no one commented.

In three weeks Jane had attempted to leave the hospital twice… that they knew of. He claimed that he was feeling fine, a blatant lie. He was caught by a nurse who found him walking slowly down a hall the first time, his scheme a little too ambitious then. The second time he had actually appeared at CBI headquarters, having taken a taxi, but as pale as a sheet by all accounts. The team had been out at the time. Hightower had banned him from the building for at least a month.

Jane's abductor and torturer behind bars Lisbon finally was able to let herself relax a bit. Unfortunately for her it meant her mind didn't have something to occupy itself with and would wander to subjects less pleasant personally. She had been sending members of her team to keep Jane updated as well as to check in on him. Avoidance was a strong word, she had been simply focused on the job at hand and helping everyone become safer by taking in another bad guy. Jane had been calling from the hospital almost daily the past week, she ignoring them and allowing them to go to voice messages.

Lisbon couldn't let herself be sidetracked by Jane with visits to the hospital. The first time had been the last time. She convinced herself that it was for him, not just for her own reasons. He didn't need to lean on her, besides, being out of the hospital meant she had been working non-stop to catch the contemptible slime ball that had done those cruel things to her consultant. He depended on her and the way he had held onto her hand and looked up into her face quietly, the one time she had asked why he had come to her home that Friday night had nothing to do with it.

She was at home now and knew Jane had been discharged this day, ordered to bed rest and follow up appointments. Restless, even after a long day of work and having barely stepped into her home she needed something to do. The hair on her neck stood up. There was something not right. Nothing looked different and yet… hand on her gun still clipped in at her side she carefully looked around her from the front door then froze. Jane was on her living room couch.

"Jane!" she called out in surprise and upset, hands tugging out her gun in its holder and badge, setting them on the table as she walked over.

"Shhh, I'm sleeping," he whispered by way of answer, a finger had been raised to his mouth, eyes not opening. She was at his side now, arms crossed in front of her. He looked good, much improved since the last time she saw him. He no longer had raccoon like bruising around his eyes, nose wasn't swollen, he wasn't pale. He also had the beginnings of a beard. That's new. She sighed and took a seat in the chair next to the couch near his head. Of course he'd come find her.

She studied him and a look of consternation appeared on her face, "Jane? Did you go through my closet?"

"Possibly."

He was wearing an old ex-boyfriend's sweatpants and one of her over-sized pajama shirts she had gotten when one of her brothers went on a trip to England. She had never gotten around to throwing out the sweatpants because it seemed a waste to do so as they were in very good condition, but too large for her to wear. The shirt she may have worn once. Both had been located in the bottom drawer of her bedroom.

Anger bubbled up at the invasion of her privacy, but she tamped it down, not wanting a still recovering Jane to be killed by her temper. She took a breath and stood up, taking the stairs up to her room to change. She was going for a run.

Lisbon had slowed down to a walk, only a couple blocks away from her home having run for an hour. She turned off the steady music she had been running to and pulled the ear buds out. Why was Jane on her couch? He should be at his own place, resting. Maybe this was the culmination of all those ignored phone calls. It was payback, there was no way she could ignore someone being in her house.

She wondered if he had dug through all her things, but nothing seemed out of place other than the open space in that bottom drawer where the shirt and sweat pants had been. Of course who was to say he hadn't just placed items back in their place after examining her home?

Was he still on her couch? Maybe he left while she was out running. No, that would be too convenient. There was still a faint spot on the carpet where he had bled close to a month ago. There was no way he'd let that rest for long. Did he look through her kitchen cabinet and discover that all her alcohol was gone?

Her walk had come to a complete stop, now only half a block to her home. No. She wasn't going to avoid him anymore. She wasn't going to be turned out of her own home. If he has something to say then he'd say it. The least she could do was let him have her couch… for the day. He shouldn't be rewarded for breaking into people's homes.

Entering her place Jane was still on the couch, though there was now a mug on the coffee table she suspected to be tea.

"Why are you here?" she asked after she set her mp3 player down by her CDs.

"Hightower threw me out of the office," he answered simply.

"And for good reason, but why are you here, on my couch?" she pressed.

He was silent for a moment and she wondered if he'd feign sleep when he said, "Maybe I thought you missed me."

"Jane-" she said tiredly, arms hanging limply at her sides.

"You didn't miss me?" his face worked itself into a sulk.

"Well, no-"

He broke out into a sunny smile, "So you did miss me and I'm certain you wouldn't kick out a weak and wounded man onto the streets to fend for himself."

"Jane, why couldn't you be normal and ask instead of breaking into my house?" she finally asked, slumping down onto the floor and sitting with her back against the couch.

"Where would be the fun in that?" he murmured.

She didn't reply and knew that she would let him stay more than the day after all. He was clearly counting on her soft spot for more than physically damaged consultants.

"So what's for dinner?"

"Would you cut it up for me?"

Lisbon looked up from her salad on her side of the coffee table, sitting on the floor. Jane was still laying on the couch and was gesturing to the slice of pizza on his plate.

"What are you? A child?" Lisbon teased, taking a bite of the Caesar salad that came with the pizza she had ordered for them.

"Lisbooooon," he whined.

"Fine, fine," she grumbled, rolling her eyes, though she was a bit amused, as she got up to get a knife from the kitchen.

She was cutting up his pizza into bite sized pieces, every once in a while looking up at him, waiting for him to specify something else. He still was laying on the couch and it occurred to her he intended to stay that way to eat. She put the knife and fork down against his plate and told him, "Hold on a second."

He watched as Lisbon stood and went up the stairs, returning some moments later with pillows in her arms.

"Jane, I need you to sit up for a moment," she told him. He complied, though grimacing while doing so, his ribs protesting the movement all the way. She slid the pillows in under his back and when satisfied with their position, motioned for him to lay back on them. Though not as comfortable for him as laying fully down, it was much better than sitting up and he was less likely to choke while eating.

"Thank you," he said appreciatively as she settled back down on the floor.

"Don't mention it," she said dismissively, another bite of salad on her fork.

Later, plates cleared and facing the television, Lisbon sat on the floor against the couch contented.

"Lisbon?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm here for you, I hope you know that," Jane said, speaking towards the back of her head.

"It's hard to ignore a man on my couch," she said lightly, "though I'm not sure if you're really here so much for me as for a nurse…" and looked over her shoulder at him. His expression, however, was serious. She blinked then turned away again.

Jane stared at her dark head, hair unbound after the shower she took while they had waited for the pizza. Lazy ringlets and waves tempted him, but if he gave in and touched them at this moment she would snap up her guard quicker than he could say "meh".

Neither of them were very open about themselves and for him to try and get her to open up was laughable and hypocritical, but someone had to do it and it would be him. They had time together ahead of them in the foreseeable future. Just as he promised to get his revenge on Red John, she promised to be at his side and stop or arrest him. However it turned out, they would be together and he would rather that they be in a supportive partnership while they had the time. Of course, he also didn't want to see her hurting.

"People care about you and there are at least one pair of ears willing to listen when you feel up to it," he said, staring up at the ceiling, feeling a little out of his depth. It wasn't often he was sincere. "Not that you have to," he dithered, glancing over at Lisbon's still head resting against the couch cushion near his hip.

The woman rolled her head on the cushion and looked over at him, hair shifting back, pale neck exposed. It made his mouth dry. She quirked a small smile at him.

Now.

Almost imperceptively her eyes widened, but she remained still. Jane was elated at the feel of smooth strands, a finger gently wound itself in her thick hair. A heartbeat. Two. She brought her own hand up and captured his, pressing his knuckles to her cheek as she closed her eyes.

She didn't know when she would feel up to talking, if ever, and her companion may give her time yet for now, but however it turned out she knew he would be there. That would have to be enough.


End file.
